


Devil in a Blue Dress

by Starfish



Category: due South
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-05
Updated: 2019-04-05
Packaged: 2020-01-05 04:42:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18358838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starfish/pseuds/Starfish
Summary: Ray slammed his hand down on the table hard enough to make the silverware jump and the other lunch patrons stare. "All I'm saying, Fraser, is that a real friend would have faked a heart attack or something to get me out of that conversation. Where am I going to find a girlfriend?"(Originally posted in May of 2005, in ds_flashfiction.)





	Devil in a Blue Dress

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to Alanna for beta and to LauraKaye for being on crack with me.

"I'm sorry, Ray, but it defies all logic," Fraser said stubbornly.  
  
"But what you gotta understand, Fraser, is the mentality you're dealing with here – these are _Cubs fans_. Logic has nothing to do with it." Ray's wildly swinging arms got him a couple of dirty looks from the other people using the sidewalk, but he didn't care. The first nice day they'd had all week, and if he felt like being enthusiastic, look out, world. Nothing was going to bring him down.  
  
"Ray? Ray Kowalski?"  
  
Ray turned slowly, trying frantically to place the voice and figure out why his feet wanted to run. It wasn't until he saw the face that went with the voice that he put it all together, much too late. "Trish, hey," he said, faking enthusiasm for all he was worth. "How's Glen?"  
  
Trish stood just a little too close, as always. "He's good. This is funny, we were just talking about you the other day."  
  
"Funny, yeah," Ray said, thinking of possible emergencies he could suddenly be called away on. A soft throat-clearing noise from Fraser made him remember his manners. "Oh, hey, Fraser, this is Trish Campbell. Her brother was one of my best buds in high school. Haven't seen him in, what, six years?"  
  
"More like seven," Trish said. She smiled and held out her hand to Fraser.  
  
"Benton Fraser," he said, taking hold of her hand and shaking it gently. "I'm Ray's unofficial partner." Fraser's smile wasn't quite at full power, but Ray could see it wasn't having much effect on Trish. She turned back to him and put her hand on his arm.   
  
"I heard about Stella," she said gently, making it sound like Stell had died or something. Her hand drifted down to clasp his, tiny fingers twining around like ivy. "How are you doing?"  
  
"I'm doing okay," he said carefully. "You know."  
  
She nodded as if she did and moved a little closer. "We should go out sometime."  
  
 _Fuck_.  
  
"Well, I …" Ray said.  
  
"When you're ready to date again, I mean."  
  
"I," Ray said. "Um, actually, I am. Dating. A girl. Woman. Who's um, dating me."  
  
"Really?" she asked, sounding doubtful, and if there was one thing that ticked him off, it was when people didn't believe him when he was lying to them.  
  
"Really," he said firmly. "For a few months now. It's pretty serious."  
  
"Ray?" Fraser said, and Ray thought _shut up_ at him as hard as he could.  
  
"I know, Frase," he said out loud. "Gotta keep moving. Don't want to be late, right?" He pried his hand loose from Trish's and gave her a bright smile. "Really great seeing you, though. Say hi to Glen for me."  
  
"Listen," she said, "He's in town for a few more days – we should have dinner. I'm sure he'd love to meet your girlfriend."  
  


* * *

  
  
Ray slammed his hand down on the table hard enough to make the silverware jump and the other lunch patrons stare. "All I'm saying, Fraser, is that a _real_ friend would have faked a heart attack or something to get me out of that conversation. Where am I going to find a girlfriend?"  
  
Fraser blinked at him. "I assume you don't mean an actual girlfriend, Ray. I should think you'd be hard-pressed to form a solid relationship inside of," Fraser checked his watch, "six hours. So what you really need, if I'm understanding you correctly, is someone who will pretend to be your girlfriend for the evening."  
  
Ray poked at the wontons in his soup, watching them bob and float. "Someone like that, yeah," he said glumly.  
  
"Well, the problem's not insurmountable, surely you know a suitable female or two."  
  
"Suitable?" Ray hooted. "Let's see, there's Frannie, who, just no. Elaine's working; I checked. I'm tapped out."  
  
"Ah," said Fraser. "Hmm."  
  
Ray looked up. "Hmm? Good hmm or bad hmm?"  
  
"Why is it so vital that you deceive your friend?"  
  
Ray sighed. "Trish and me went out, once. One time. Stella had dumped me, and there was a school dance – not a formal or anything, but – anyway, Trish asked me, and I said okay, and we went to the dance, and afterwards I took her home, and I thought that was it, you know? She's just not my type. But you'd have thought I'd proposed or something, the way she was the next day. And then Stell took me back again, and I had to do some fast talking so as not to get beaten up by Glen, who thought I'd led his baby sister on just to make Stella jealous, which I didn't. It was a big mess."  
  
Fraser nodded. "And you think she still harbors some feelings for you?"  
  
"Fraser, she asked me out. I'm pretty sure she harbors _something_ , yeah."  
  
"And you don't want the possibility of another misunderstanding." Fraser nodded again. "Very well then. I'll do it. It's for a good cause, at least."  
  
"Hunh?" said Ray.  
  
"I must be going. I have extensive preparations to make. Please be at the restaurant at least half an hour early."  
  
"But --"  
  
"Don't worry about a thing, Ray. I'll see you later." Fraser stood up, put a ten on the table, said "Come along, Dief," and walked out the door.  
  
"You're going to get me a girl?" Ray said to the empty chair across from him. A waiter walking past looked at him funny, which was okay, because Ray felt dazed. "Um, check, please."  
  


* * *

  
  
He was at the restaurant by seven-fifteen, nervous as hell but at least he looked okay. He hoped. The guy at the desk inside the door made a little mark next to his name when he gave it, and just nodded when Ray said he'd be at the bar if anyone was asking for him.  
  
The bar was about half-full and not too noisy, and Ray sat near the television and looked hopefully at the bartender, who obligingly came over to him and asked what he wanted. "Can I get a Molson in a bottle and the 'Hawks game on the tube?" he asked.  
  
Thirty seconds later he had a beer in one hand and the remote in the other. "You want to run a tab?" the bartender asked.  
  
"Yeah, please," Ray said. "I'm meeting someone." He checked his hair in the bar mirror, which was dumb. What did it matter how his hair looked? This wasn't a date; he didn't need to impress whoever Fraser had gotten to go along with this crazy thing. He turned his attention to the game, where the 'Hawks were already down by one in the first period, and the Wings had managed to get a power play started. Someone sat down next to him just as Konstantinov slammed Dennis Savard into the boards. Ray winced in sympathy and looked to his left.  
  
The "someone" who'd sat down was, well, _pretty_ , in a classy sort of way. Long reddish hair, nice rack, silky blue dress, kind of tall … "Hi, Ray," she said. Ray blinked.  
  
"How'd you know my – oh. Duh. You're my date, right? Well, not my date, but -- did Fraser fill you in? Because I love the guy like a brother, but he has no flair for this kind of thing."  
  
The woman looked a little offended, and her eyes narrowed. "You don't think so?" she said.  
  
Ray shook his head. "Not at all."  
  
"Hmm," she said. "Why don't you fill me in, then."  
  
"Right," he said. "Basically, an old friend's sister may want to jump my bones, which cannot happen, because then said old friend will expect me to date and probably marry said sister, which I do not want to do. So. I kind of accidentally told her I was dating someone, and that it was serious, and they'll be here soon. Your job is to act like we've been dating a while and you really like me."  
  
She smiled. "Is that all?"  
  
Ray smiled back. Wow, she really was pretty. "You think you can handle it?"  
  
She nodded. "I'll muddle through. How shall we say we met?"  
  
Smart, too. "Good question. Okay, the secret of this is to stick as close to the truth as you can. So ... obviously we say that Fraser set us up, which he did."  
  
"Excellent. I'll follow your lead as best I can."  
  
"Okay then," Ray said, feeling like the night might not be a total disaster after all. He took a long pull on his beer, and only then thought about his date. "Hey, you want a drink? White wine, maybe?"  
  
She shook her head. "Just water is fine."  
  
Ray motioned the bartender over and ordered another beer and a Perrier. A buzzer drew his attention back to the television in time to see the puck sail past Mike Vernon and into the net to tie it for the 'Hawks. "Putz," he told the goalie triumphantly.  
  
"That's as may be, but I think they have a shot at the cup this season."  
  
Ray turned to stare at his date. "You follow hockey?" he asked disbelievingly. She nodded. Ray pressed it. "A classy girl like you likes hockey, for real?"  
  
She snorted a little at that and covered her mouth with her hand, looking embarrassed at the noise. "What?" Ray asked.  
  
"I'm trying to remember the last time anyone called me a girl," she said.  
  
 _Nice one, Kowalski._  
  
"Sorry," he said quickly. "I, uh, I meant woman. I know better, really I do."  
  
For some reason she seemed even more amused by this. Ray looked at her more closely. There was just something familiar ….  
  
"Xena," he blurted out.  
  
"I beg your pardon?"  
  
"You, uh, look like her. Xena. From TV. Sorry, I bet you get that all the time."  
  
She stared at him for a second, mouth open. "No," she said finally. "That's a first."  
  
"Okay," Ray said. He studied her for another moment, then blurted, "What _is_ your name, anyway?"  
  
She looked confused. "Oh. I -- Caroline. Caroline Roberts."  
  
Ray nodded. "All right, Caroline Roberts. Tell me about you. What do you do when you're not doing favors for people you don't know?"  
  
"I work at the Canadian Consulate, actually," she said.  
  
"Really? I never saw you there."  
  
"I, er, mostly do clerical work."  
  
"Hunh," Ray said. "That's how you know Fraser, then."  
  
"No," she said, "I've known him ever since I can remember." She smiled a little as she said it, and it made Ray wonder if she had a thing for Fraser, like most women seemed to. He had more sense than to ask, though; that wasn't too cool even if this _wasn't_ a real date.  
  
"So, paperwork and hockey," he said instead. "What else? You like movies?"  
  
She nodded, but before she could say anything they were interrupted by the guy from the desk out front.  
  
"Mr. Kowalski?" he said. "I'm sorry to intrude, sir, but there was a message for you -- your guests are unavoidably detained by car trouble, and wish to extend their apologies, but they're going to have to cancel."  
  
"Oh," Ray said, relief and disappointment fighting for first place in his head. "Thanks."  
  
"May I show you to your table now?"  
  
Ray's first instinct was to say no, but then he looked at Caroline, who'd come out expecting dinner for her trouble, at least, and besides, he was hungry. "You ready to eat?" he said to her.  
  
"Absolutely," she replied.  
  
"Lead on, then," Ray said to the guy. He put out his hand to help Caroline off the barstool, only to discover that when she stood up, she was a good inch or two taller than he was. "Wow," he said, without thinking.  
  
She leaned closer. "It's the heels," she said conspiratorially.  
  
"Yeah, okay," said Ray. She took his arm like they did in the movies, and they followed the guy to a table near the back of the restaurant. He remembered to pull out her chair, and she thanked him softly as she sat down.  
  
Ray looked at the menu for a second, saw they had a twelve-ounce sirloin, and closed it. He watched as Caroline talked to the waiter about the specials and couldn't shake the feeling that there was still something oddly familiar about her. Maybe it was just the way she talked so much like Fraser, which made sense, if they grew up together and all.  
  
When the waiter had taken their orders and moved off, there was a small moment of silence. "So," Ray said awkwardly. "You grew up in the Northwest Areas, hunh?"  
  
"Territories, and yes," she said. "Tuktoyaktuk and Inuvik, mostly."  
  
Ray nodded like he knew exactly where that was. "Chicago must be quite a change for you."  
  
She smiled. "I do find it a bit trying, occasionally, but people are much the same, wherever one goes."  
  
Ray nodded again, thinking that if he was much lamer he'd have to shoot himself. He'd been doing okay at the bar, but that was before it had turned into something way more like a date. "So you really think the Wings have a shot at the cup?" he asked before he could think too much about it.  
  
Caroline leaned forward. "I do indeed. Osgood and Vernon between them are quite powerful in the net, and Fetisov -- I followed his career when he was with Calgary, you know -- Detroit was very lucky to get him."  
  
  
  
So for two hours they ate and talked about hockey and movies and Fraser -- because Ray just couldn't pass up an chance to get some dirt on the guy, even though it turned out there wasn't much, just some long weird story about gasoline and a boomerang -- and then the check came, and Ray paid it, and the date-that-wasn't-a-date was over. They walked out of the restaurant, and Ray felt awkward again.  
  
"You want a ride home?" he offered.  
  
"Oh," Caroline said, looking a little panicky. "No, thank you, I'll get a cab. I'm sure it's out of your way."  
  
Ray was about to protest this when a cab pulled up right in front of them and two people got out. "See?" Caroline said. "There's one now. Thank you very much for dinner, Ray, I really enjoyed it." She turned and walked to the cab, putting her hand on the door.  
  
"Hey, wait a second," said Ray, following her. She turned back to him and waited, one foot in the street so now she was shorter than him. "I just wanted to say thanks a lot for helping me out, even if it turned out not to be necessary. You're … a lot of fun to be with."  
  
She smiled. "I think you're a lot of fun too, Ray. Good night." She turned and slid into the cab before he could wonder if he should try to kiss her.  
  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  
Ray bounced into the Consulate the next day at lunchtime. He faked a salute at Turnbull, who was at the top of the stairs dusting something, and strode down the hall to Fraser's office.  
  
"Hey, Fraser!" he said as he walked through the open door. "You ready for lunch?"  
  
Fraser looked up at him from the stack of folders on his desk. "Hello, Ray," he said. "Those are lovely flowers."  
  
Ray looked down at the bouquet in his hand. "Yeah, they're for Caroline. Is she here?"  
  
"Er, no. She's … she stepped out. How was … how did it go last night?"  
  
"Glen and Trish had to cancel, but me and Caro had dinner anyway. Did you know she likes hockey?"  
  
"Yes," said Fraser shortly. Ray looked at him curiously -- was Fraser blushing? Oh, man, did Fraser have a thing for Caroline?  
  
"Listen, Fraser," he said carefully. "Thanks a lot for setting that up and all, it was great, but … the flowers are just to say thanks. She's fun, but she's … not exactly quite my type."  
  
"I see."  
  
"Yeah, so don't worry, I'm not going to step on your toes, here."  
  
"My … _toes_?"  
  
"I figured maybe you were, you know, interested. In her."  
  
"I -- no. Thank you for your concern, Ray, but … oh hell." Fraser slumped over and put his head down on top of the stack of folders. "Look in the closet, Ray," he said in a pained tone.  
  
Ray opened Fraser's closet and his jaw dropped. Blue dress.  
  
High heels, on the floor. And on the shelf …  
  
 _Wig_.  
  
His fingers reached out of their own accord and stroked the shoulder of the dress. It swung on its hanger, and he saw something black draped over the back of it. He forced himself to breathe as he realized what it was.  
  
"Fraser," he said in a strangled voice.  
  
"Yes," Fraser said.  
  
"Fraser, you --"  
  
"Yes," said Fraser again. "Yes, Ray, it was me."  
  
Ray's hand shook as he removed the merry widow from the hanger. "Were you wearing this last night?"  
  
"What -- oh. Yes. The, er, garters for the stockings were quite, ah, helpful. Pantyhose are --"  
  
"Shut up a second, Fraser," Ray said roughly. "I need to, uh, process this."  
  
Fraser wasn't interested in Caroline because Fraser _was_ Caroline. And Ray was … Ray was suddenly, uncomfortably, very very hard. He shifted things around and walked carefully back over to Fraser's desk.  
  
"Did I ever tell you about the first time I saw _Rocky Horror_ , Frase?" he said, when Fraser lifted his head and looked up at him.  
  
Fraser blinked. "No," he said in a puzzled tone.  
  
Ray smiled. "Stella left partway through the Time Warp, but me, I stayed for the whole thing. I never wanted to leave the theater again, in fact."  
  
"I'm sorry, Ray, but I don't know the reference," Fraser said after a second.  
  
Ray nodded. "Nope, you probably don't. And there's one very important other thing you don't know." He bounced a little on his heels. "You never did ask me what my type _was_ , Fraser."  
  
"I -- what?"  
  
Ray stroked the satin of the merry widow gently, shivering a little as he did it. "I told you Trish and Caroline weren't my type, but you never asked who was."  
  
"Ray?" Fraser said, and his voice was much lower and rougher. "Are you saying…?"  
  
Ray leaned over and kissed him, hard. "I'm saying I want you to put this on and fuck me right here on your desk, is what I'm saying. And after that, we can go have lunch and you can tell me exactly what you thought you were trying to pull. Deal?"  
  
"God, yes," Fraser said, standing up and starting to unbutton his tunic. "Anything you want, Ray."  
  
Ray walked to the door to lock it. "Yeah, you are," he said. "But we really have to work on your taste in hockey teams."


End file.
